


Son of A Hutt

by Ozzer



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Forced Marriage, Hilarious misunderstandings, I promise I'll try to update this before I die of old age, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Kylux - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozzer/pseuds/Ozzer
Summary: When Kylo Ren was told by his master that he was to be married to secure a political alliance, he was not pleased. He was even less pleased when he found out it was to be to the son of a Hutt gangster to ensure the clan's support. However things might not be exactly as they seem and Snoke certainly seems to think this union will be beneficial.





	Son of A Hutt

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay hello. I'm sorry that this isn't Hot Redheaded Twink but I've lost my inspiration with that one recently so have this instead, yay! So this is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while and while the first bit was meant to be a prologue, it turned out a bit long for that so I'm just calling it a full blown chapter. There will be a time skip in the next update though, and some Ren in the second chapter too. So enjoy my brain farts!
> 
> Also note, I have no beta and I am an impatient fuck who is bad at proofreading so chances are there are typos in this. If you spot any, please point them out and I will chance accordingly.

Commandant Hux’s reluctance to let young Armitage out of his sight was born less out of any paternal concern for his son and more to do with ensuring that the Grand Admiral kept her mitts off the boy: his boy. Brendol however was just vain enough to imagine himself a perfect father, one so magnanimous as to admit that the puny, pale bastard was indeed his own flesh and blood. Compassionate enough to see the potential in this chit of a boy, who cried at night in their cramped, shared quarters when he thought his father couldn’t hear. At least, the Commandant mused, Armitage had learned not to complain to Brendol’s face.

But since the fall of the Empire after the destruction of the second Death Star – he’d secretly thought the name was a tad dramatic and that simply ‘the armoured battle station’ was a more than adequate description – Brendol had lost his home, his security, his wife and his mistress all in one fell swoop. It was insult to injury that out of it all, he’d been allowed to keep his bastard and it had been made clear to him by Sloane herself that he was not to take out any of his frustrations on the boy.

At times like this though, he was offered a small reprieve away from the flagship that sheltered so much subterfuge and desperate scrabbling among the ranks. He and his son were fortunately out from under the direct influence of the Grand Admiral and the group of almost certainly murderous children that Armitage, for some unfathomable reason, seemed to have some pull over. Out here, on the border of Hutt Space, no one could be blamed if restricted communications meant his only monitoring was a message every cycle. And during that time, the Commandant mused, it was his prerogative to rely on his own paternal instincts and not those enforced upon him.

Currently Brendol was indulging in his newfound ability to impose his own form of discipline on Armitage by leisurely poring over some reports covering progress on his Stormtrooper program while his five year old son stood in a crisp, miniature version of Brendol’s own Imperial uniform to full attention. Armitage had been standing like that for – Brendol glanced down at his chronometer – about six hours now and the boy’s tiny legs were visibly shaking. 

But as long as he didn’t leave any physical marks on the boy, Rae would never know and no doubt Armitage would be too proud to tell her. He really had changed in the past year or so, no longer the snivelling little child but now a proper heir with some real potential. At least that’s what Sloane and Gallius Rax seemed to think, though Brendol wasn’t so sure. 

Sighing as he pushed back from the desk, the Commandant turned his attention fully to his son, the report he had been previously reviewing becoming somewhat tedious in his tired mind. Now that the older man had noticed the shaking, it was something of a nuisance to watch.

“Alright, Armitage, you’re dismissed for now. I know you’ll think twice before questioning when I decide to bring you along on a mission, hm?” Brendol noticed his son almost flop with relief but still manage to maintain a respectable parade rest. He was learning fast.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Commandant,” the boy spoke crisply and clearly with an accent from a planet he’d never even been too, but still rather quietly in the small room.

“Speak up, boy! No one will ever take you seriously if you mutter like that all the time!” Brendol had to admit to himself that Armitage wasn’t really muttering, as such, but putting a bit of fear into the boy from time to time was never a bad idea. 

Armitage visibly straightened again and brought his fist up to his chest in a salute, sweat visibly beading down from his fiery red hair despite the mild temperature in Brendol’s study.

“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir!” The younger Hux barked out, actually stirring the beginnings of a headache in Brendol’s overworked brain. It seemed he couldn’t win with this little brat. 

“I suggest you get out of my sight and get some sleep before we tour the facility, next cycle. The Admiralty was to ensure this shipyard is still loyal and I won’t have you ruining anything because you were ‘too tired to focus’,” His voice took a patronising lilt at the end and he saw Armitage visibly flinch as he seemed to have been caught in the middle of stifling a yawn.

However the boy chose wisely to not respond verbally and instead left the room after another brief salute, no doubt to laze about somewhere aboard the ship or else otherwise make a nuisance of himself. Though there was nothing Brendol could do about that now, being far too busy with his work to spare another minute pandering to his little brat.

Turning back to the report, the Commandant let out a loud yawn of his own as he watched the seconds tick by on the top of his datapad. The sooner they were in and back out of Hutt Space, the better. Though, amusing himself with the thought, Brendol wasn’t sure whether he would pick the slug-like inhabitants of Nal Hutta over the superiors waiting back in Rax’s Shadow Council.

After a small chuckle at the notion, Brendol returned back to work, his bastard son no longer even registering in his thoughts for the time being.

  


Armitage did not like feeling powerless. In truth it was something he had been feeling less and less but as he flopped onto his bum in the small corridor outside of the Commandant’s office, it was a feeling he was associating more and more solely with the man he still struggled to think of as ‘father’ in his head. 

The small, ginger boy tried stretching his legs up by pulling his knees towards his chest but after wincing at the burn, he decided it was best to just sit here for a little while. He knew there weren’t many people on the small shuttle to come and shout at him for taking up space. Just the two pilots in the cockpit – one of whom was really quite nice and sometimes showed him what all the buttons did – and a few of the faceless Stormtroopers who liked to gamble in their rooms when they weren’t on duty.

He didn’t know how long it would be before he could get back to the safety of Rae and the Ravager but Brendol had implied they would be at their destination soon. A tie fighter construction facility orbiting a city moon, from what he could gather, though that was only from titbits given that the young boy had not been part of the official briefing. 

Armitage liked the fighter ships and found their inner workings to be a fascinating subject – along with all engineering and machinery – so he was secretly pleased to have been sent on the mission along with the Commandant. Even if his aching legs didn’t agree with his right now.

Once he felt loose enough in his limbs to climb to his feet once more, Armitage scurried along the shuttle towards the cockpit, sneaking past the rowdy-sounding ‘troopers to tap gently on the access screen next to the door, silently keying in his name and entry request.

Almost immediately, the young boy was relieved to see the smiling face of the nice pilot who beckoned Armitage in and gestured to the empty seat where the co-pilot usually sat. 

“Grevin’s getting some rest before we land and refuel at Nar Shaddaa, kid, so you can come join me, if ya fancy?” The needlessly cheerful man answered the question Armitage didn’t really need to know the answer to, but the boy did have numerous things he was burning to know, so he put up with the mindless chatter. A happy sigh escaped him as he sat down in the padded co-pilot’s chair.

“I know, it’s beautiful out there, a’int it?” The grinning pilot seemed to mistake his relief for awe as he nodded out of the front visor. “Won’t be long till we land, kiddo. I dunno if you’ll be allowed out of the shuttle though – some pretty mean folks planetside. You ever heard of a Hutt?”

Armitage nodded. He’d read a holo about them not too long ago, though it was mostly pictures and he had struggled with some of the longer words, having not long learned his letters. Still the slimy-looking, bug-eyed gelatinous masses in the images were enough and if the boy weren’t so excited to see the tie fighters, he might have been more than happy to stay aboard.

“Well, son, I don’t know much Huttese, but I did pick up a couple of phrases in my travels,” The pilot seemed undeterred by Armitage’s silence and just chatty enough that even though he was interested in knowing some Huttese, the young boy knew he wouldn’t have to ask for any elaboration. “Let’s see now… ‘De wanna wanga’, I think that’s some form of greeting. But the most important one,” The man turned his dazzling smile on Armitage, “Is probably ‘hagwe je killya, dolpa kikyuna!’ which is really all you need if you get on a Hutt’s bad side.”

Kicking the backs of his legs slightly against the seat, Armitage mulled the harsh sounding syllables to memory as best he could nodding once more as he stared out the front visor once more, watching the distant planet system getting larger and larger.

“Gee, kid, you really don’t say much, do ya?” The pilot chuckled under his breath.

Armitage glared at the man when he was sure the pilot wasn’t looking at him before shrugging and finally speaking for the first time. “I only speak when I have something to say.”

“Ouch, is that a shot at me? Well, you gotta do something to distract yourself on long flights. Speaking of, it won’t be too long before we land so why don’t you go and tell the Commandant that our ETA is half an hour to Nar Shaddaa?”

Ingrained discipline kept Armitage from sighing or outright refusing as much as he didn’t want to talk to Brendol again. Instead, he muttered his assent before kicking off the slightly too big seat and making his way back past the ‘troopers. Stopping shortly, the boy decided that it may actually be less scary to delegate his task and talk to one of the helmeted troops rather than go back to the Commandant so soon after being dismissed.

“You. Hello?” Armitage, cleared his throat as he approached the table the ‘troopers were sat around, trying not to make his comment sound like a question and internally wincing as he somewhat failed. It seemed the novelty of a small, bright haired child coming up to them was enough to break up the conversation though and all eyes, presumably under those helmets, turned to Armitage. No time to back down now.

“Are you talking to me?” The nearest one gestured to themselves, sounding bemused but at least not angry, “What do you want, kid?”

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Armitage pressed on. “Yes. The pilot requests that you tell Commandant Hux that our Ee-Tee-Ay on Nar Shaddaa will be half an hour.” The boy was proud of himself for sounding so sure, even if he didn’t know what ‘Ee-Tee-Ay’ meant, but hopefully he would not be questioned on it.

“Yessir,” The ‘trooper saluted with a chuckle as he pushed off from the table to the agreeable laughter of his companions. Armitage knew it was silly, but it filled him with a warm bubbly feeling of happiness to be obeyed as such, even if he knew that the man was just humouring him. He’d have to try pushing the boundaries more with the children back on the Ravager when they got back.

For now though, the boy was content to wait in his tiny quarters at the back of the ship until the Commandant summoned him to join the contingent heading on to land.

  


The recon mission to the tie fighter shipyard had gone as well as Brendol could have expected it to. The line managers had been a bit sharp with him at first and were pushing their luck for a wage increase that they absolutely knew the remnants of the Empire could not afford right now but the Commandant had been given just enough ammunition in his arsenal that he could go over their heads straight to the owner of the facility.

He had offered the man – a greasy, balding individual whom it was hard to look at without constantly wishing for a sonic shower – a lump sum of credits which had been enough to ply his greed and win his guarantee that work would continue as much as was possible with the current economic difficulties.

As far as Brendol was concerned, it was a success and Armitage had even managed to behave and after asking only a few questions about the latest designs, had been given a schematic for his holopad that had kept the boy occupied and silent for the rest of the visit. As the shuttle landed once more on the city moon of Nar Shadda that the shipyard orbited Brendol was thankful that they’d be on their way after only a brief stop at the port to restock supplies.

If only it had all been that simple.

Brendol was currently sweating profusely in the grimy heat of a packed cityscape, haggling with some species he could not identify over the price of some basic ship rations though the task was made difficult by the creature’s heavily accented basic. Armitage was standing at his side, curiously eyeing the produce on the cart some of which the boy had never seen before from exotic fruits to strange mechanical devices, the purpose of which was not clear. 

“Damn it, I’m not a simple minded fool! I know how much canned concentrate stick is worth and by the Void, it’s frankly worse even less coming from you!” Brendol barked growing red in the face. He knew that shouting at the creature was getting him nowhere and was not going to get him a better deal, but he was losing his patience.

Glancing around briefly, the Commandant saw a few of his ‘troopers a few stalls back, though he hadn’t wanted them too close, least there be rebel sympathisers about. It was nice to know they were there however, especially when he heard a small gasp from knee level and turning back to silence the boy, he instead came face to face with a blaster.

“I be think, you do disrespect!” The creature snorted, offering a toothy grin. “I be think, you do respect more with blaster hole in he—” though the last bit of the sentence was rather abruptly cut off by the sound of laser fire from behind them.

“Kriff!” Brendol cursed, knowing that a fight breaking out in Hutt territory was never going to end well. And things had been going so swimmingly this morning “Hold your damned fire!” But it was too late.

Like an atom’s nucleus being split, the chain reaction had already began, smugglers and bounty hunters and other scum all with one hand constantly on their triggers set about shooting at their targets. In such an underworld, everyone was always on edge and someone with a blaster in Imperial armour was usually enough to set them off.

If was madness, complete chaos, and within seven seconds, Brendol could no longer even see the ‘troopers, cursing himself for not having brought the whole squad. Subtly didn’t really matter all that much now. The Commandant did get a firm grip on his boy’s shoulders though, steering the child through the crowds with one hand while the other held his own blaster aloft.

The central causeway of the street was completely packed to the point where it was surely impossible for anyone to be hitting their targets in such close quarters though from the sound, a good two thirds of the alleyway’s population weren’t fighting, but rather fleeing and screaming.

Brendol was certain they were just getting to the periphery of the commotion when a firm hand grasped his shoulders, twisting his arm and wrenching his blaster from his hand. Armitage was also jarred out of his grasp, but to the boy’s credit, he didn’t flee and instead grabbed at the fleshy arm holding Brendol in place as though his tiny, pale arms were any match for such brute strength. Soon enough, another guard had grabbed the small boy and hefted him up into the air with a yelp but no other resistance.

“You are not from here. You are responsible for this conflict, now. We will take you to Mama,” the large, pig nosed creature snorted in broken basic as he hauled the Commandant off of the street and into a nearby building. Brendol didn’t bother to struggle, knowing his strength was no match for this veritable goliath and since he had no blaster left, there was no point. He did idly notice that the garrison, however they were, were managing a rather effective job of breaking up the fighting.

Several people were also being hauled away, though the majority were just shot and left for dead and others were making themselves scarce, hiding behind crates or under stalls. As quickly as it had started, the fighting was over.

As he was unceremoniously dragged inside, Brendol noticed that what had seemed like a nondescript building from the outside actually led into an opulent, if slightly gaudy, anti-chamber with the thrumming beat of music not far off down another lavish corridor. Bizarre artefacts from cultures that Brendol couldn’t even begin to identify lined the halls, though even if he did know what any of it was, the building was so dimly lit and the Commandant was panicking too much to really pay all that much attention.

It seemed as though they were being taken towards the source of the music – though as they got closer, Brendol decided that it sounded more like just noise than any discernible melody – and the sound of cussing to the right indicated that his son was still with him, though he had apparently just bitten the guard restraining him.

Smiling slightly, the Commandant had to admit that it was ballsy of the boy, but not exactly a useful tactic given that Armitage was probably about the size of one of the guards’ arms so ultimately, it was a futile attempt.

It wasn’t long before Brendol’s assumptions were confirmed as the two humans were brought into a large chamber at the end of the hall where the sound of drinking, laughter and general carousing was almost deafening, the air thick with hookah smoke and damp, no doubt carrying all sorts of diseases in it. The band and the dancers didn’t stop as the guards held them steady at the doorway, no one turned to even pay them the slightest attention, though given the unceremonious entrance, Brendol couldn’t help but think at least someone should be taking note of them.

One of the two humanoids holding Brendol muttered something in a language the Imperial couldn’t understand and the others grunted in agreement as the guard scurried away into the throng of people. Following him with his eyes, Brendol paled as he saw the creature approach a large throne-like dais that he had not even spotted until now, so distracted by the garish display of wealth, power and sex in the cavern-sized hall.

But now that he’d spotted it, the Commandant couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. All Hutts tended to be large, grotesque creatures but this one was something else entirely with its extensive fat-folds spilling about it onto the platform to the point where it looked very uncomfortable. One could never be sure with a Hutt, but if he had to hazard a guess, Brendol would say this one was female, if only because it seemed to have some form of lipstick and eye makeup on, making for a rather disturbing sight.

All judgemental thoughts soon fled Brendol’s mind however as the Hutt’s vivid green eyes suddenly turned to lock onto his own and he struggled to swallow down the bile that was building up in his throat. The Hutt gestured forward and the guards dragged the no longer struggling Commandant towards the gangster, Brendol finding himself too consumed by the sinking void in his stomach to put up any fight any longer.

As they approached the Hutt, the creature’s body contorted in a series of contractions and it was only after it had gained a few feet in height that it became apparent that it had been sitting up. A large, wrinkled arm was raised and now, the music did cease. As though a spell was broken, all eyes in the room were turned on the Hutt who barked out a series of harsh guttural sounds. 

Brendol opened his mouth to reply that he didn’t understand anything the Hutt was saying when a rusted, ancient looking protocol droid stepped forward, its motions jerky as though confirming that its metal joints were clogged up with oxide, like some sort of robotic arthritis.

“My mistress, Mama of the Hutt clan and matron of the Desilijic kajadic, bids you welcome to her mansion. She also demands that you serve punishment for the disruption you have caused in her sector,” the droid finished primly, seemingly numb to the fact that it was the mouthpiece of such a vile creature, or perhaps merely resigned to it after all this time.

“I didn’t do anything!” Brendol objected automatically, colouring as he realised the potentially massive danger he was in. Out of communication with the rest of his squad, with no means of contacting the Ravager and without even a blaster, he stood no chance of getting out of here alive. “Look, what I mean to sa—” 

He was cut off by another series of sounds from ‘Mama’ in a voice that conjured images of some sort of thick paste oozing over gravel. After a while she stopped and the droid spoke once more.

“Mama says that she does not want to hear your excuses and that you must pay the price for your crimes. You are to be taken to the holding cells.”

The guards began to move sluggishly to follow the command when a small, slightly shrill voice called out from next to him.

“Wait! Um,” In all the panic, Brendol had almost forgotten that Armitage was there and he found himself lamenting that he and his son would die at the same time without hope of carrying on his family legacy. But it seemed the young boy had more to add. “It’s… Hagwe je, erm… Killya dolpa kikyuna..?” 

Brendol had no idea what his son had just said, or even that the boy knew any Hutt at all, but Mama’s bulging flicked to take in the small form as though she had only just noticed he was there. There was silence for what felt like a full minute, though it was likely just a few seconds before Mama let out a serious of sharp, bubbling noises, her long, slimy tongue waggling as she did so.

It only registered after a second or two of this that the Hutt was laughing and soon everyone was dutifully joining in on it, though it was hard to believe that whatever Armitage had said was that funny. Indeed, the boy himself didn’t seem in on the joke either and was now blushing a deep crimson, that faded his freckles into the colour and stood out starkly against pale skin.

The hilarity stopped after about a full two minutes of this when Mama began talking again and the room fell abruptly silent once more. 

“Mama says that she finds this child’s spirit to be inspiring,” the droid stated as though that explained everything. “She has decided that you will be allowed to leave this city immediately, if you leave the child as a payment.” 

The reaction was instant and Brendol felt an instinctive surge of jealous possessiveness spiking inside him before he quelled it enough to properly consider his options. Armitage on the other hand seemed to be ruled by his emotions and did not bite back his objections.

“What?! Fa—I mean, Commandant, sir please! I don’t… Please don’t leave me here! Grand Admiral Sloane won’t like it if you—”

“Enough, Armitage!” Brendol barked, effectively shutting the boy up, though it did nothing to stop the welling up of tears in those blue-green eyes. He always had been such a weak-willed boy. Surely the Admiralty would understand once he explained the situation. After all, he was a much more valuable asset to the Empire than some child. He had masterminded the new Stormtrooper program; he was a member of Rax’s Shadow Council.

But he would have plenty more time to explain all of this when he got back to the Ravager. And he would be getting back. He wasn’t going to waste his life, his potential and all he had worked for, just to save the hide of some ungrateful, useless little whelp. 

Besides, with Maratelle gone, Brendol could always remarry. Have more children that Sloane could snatch from him in the future, so what was so special about this outspoken, pale little brat?

“You can tell Mama that I accept her kind offer,” The words were spoken calmly and evenly. The Commandant had made up his mind.

“Father, no please! Don’t leave me! Please, I can be better! I can do better, just don’t go without me!” Armitage began to wail, a last desperate attempt to fight his fate as the meaty guard effortless held back the child’s pitiful attempts.

“Don’t make a scene, boy. This is the best thing you can do for the Empire so I suggest you get used to it,” Brendol hissed out while the droid relayed his message to the Hutt matron who clapped her hands together, pleased as she gestured for Armitage to be taken away into the depths of the building. 

The boy was almost screaming at this point, hitting with all his puny might at the muscular arms of his captor as he was dragged away. Brendol turned his head in the opposite direction, not quite able to bring himself to close his eyes, but still doing everything he could to ignore the child’s howling.

“I’m sorry, Armitage,” he spoke softly, certain that the boy couldn’t hear him over the sounds he was making but really, he said it for his own conscious, not his son’s comfort. 

But no. He had no son any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> So hooray, there it is! In case you were curious....
> 
> Yes, there really is a Hutt called Mama - she was actually Jabba's grandmother. When scrolling through the depths of Wookiepedia, I came across her and being a fan of Dredd, I just had to use her. Though apart from the name, she will share nothing in common with Madeline Madrigal. 
> 
> Secondly, the phrase the pilot taught Armitage loosely translates to something along the lines of 'Don't hurt me because I am a loyal, tax-paying citizen' which is obviously a hilarious thing for a five year old foreigner to be saying.
> 
> So that's it, really. I can't promise when there will be an update but know that I will almost certainly post another chapter before the next film in December! <3


End file.
